


So Lay Your Head On Me

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: 'My name isn't Frank!' Nikki shrieked, and he raised his bottle and let it slam down onto the ground, hearing it break, feeling as small shards of broken glass bit into his leg as they flew around like miniature projectiles.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	So Lay Your Head On Me

' _My name isn't Frank!'_ Nikki shrieked, and he raised his bottle and let it slam down onto the ground, hearing it break, feeling as small shards of broken glass bit into his leg as they flew around like miniature projectiles. The world was going in slow motion, but Nikki wasn't. He clenched his jaw so tightly that it ached and took one last look at his mother's face, at her shock and fear and hate, at her distaste. 

For a flicker of a moment, Nikki wanted to grab her and he wanted to hit her, to watch her in pain, just like he had been, still was. He wanted to grab her and hit her and scream at her, ask _how you like you fucking bitch_ but the urge faded and everybody was staring at him, watching, waiting for a response, and there was glass on the floor and Deanna was staring at him, shocked, all wide eyes. 

Nikki turned around and walked away. His leg throbbed and he wanted to scream, to look at everybody and ask _are you happy now_ but he didn't. He walked away and didn't say a single word, just walked back into the elevator and stabbed at the button and he snarled at the next person who was coming down the hallway, and then the doors slid to a close, and Nikki stood there. 

The look of shock on his mother's face, eyes wide and mouth agape, kept repeating in Nikki's mind. He remembered how she had acted before, like they were normal and like she hadn't let her boyfriends beat him and fuck him for all those years, like she hadn't tossed him around a few times herself, and then she'd stood there, and Nikki hated her, he fucking hated her. 

There was a _ding_ as the doors slid open and Nikki stepped through. The woman and man that were standing outside the doors stepped away. They looked afraid, suspicious. Nikki spat out a laugh and walked away. His leg burned in pain. He felt like screaming, the laughter tasted like poison. 

Each door looked identical. But Nikki knew the one he was looking for. He opened it, and the knob didn't push back when he twisted it. Nikki didn't say a word as he slammed the door behind him, he didn't need to, and even if he had, then he was too exhausted, too spent for the simple words. If he opened his mouth, he would allowed himself to scream until his lungs were shriveled up. 

Mick was laying on the bed, propped up on the headboard. He was reading a book, his dark eyes gleaming in the light. He didn't look up when the door slammed shut, but he knew, he knew certainly well, as Nikki limped toward him, feeling like a kicked puppy, feeling pathetic, but he couldn't do anything about it. 

Silently, Nikki crawled into bed. His leg stung and he fell onto his stomach. He buried his face against Mick's side, and lost himself in _mick sweet he'll never hurt you_ and he tried to ignore the pain, he really did, the mental and physical ache that made Nikki feel like something had crawled inside his heart and died. 

After a minute, maybe two, Mick's hand lowered onto the back of Nikki's head. He began to card his fingers through Nikki's hair, avoiding the tangled knots as skillfully as anybody could, like it was a routine that hed long gotten used to. The feeling was comforting. Nikki didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to. 

"Did something happen with your mother?" Mick asked, but he already knew the answer, so it wasn't really a question. He knew that Nikki wouldn't get so upset otherwise. Mick knew Nikki better than Nikki knew himself, and Nikki didn't like that, but he couldn't do anything about it. 

Nikki bit his lip until he tasted copper. He nodded, and Mick sighed. "What'd she say?" He asked, like it mattered, like it made a difference. But that was Mick, always asking about the things that nobody else thought about. Mick set aside his book, as if preparing himself for a long conversation. 

There was silence, and it was coated with fear. Mick waited patiently for awhile, and then his hand traveled. Nikki stiffened. He gripped a handful of Mick's shirt, a silent warning. Mick paused. "Let me see your leg." He said, and he _sounded disappointed he's disappointed in you._

Just like he'd always done, even when he hadn't wanted to, Nikki obeyed. He didn't want to move. He did as told. Nikki moved toward the headboard, and Mick moved down, his fingers gentle as he peeled away the torn pieces of black denim that Nikki had cut through with a knife. 

Mick inspected the cuts. "The glass is still in there." He said, always the obvious. 

That broke the camel's back. That was the one that broke the glass, broke the heart, broke the bones underneath their skin. Those were the words that broke the world. It was like the rain after a long, dry thunderstorm. 

Like a child who was lost, Nikki let out a sob, and he buried his face against his hands. He didn't want to see Mick's face, didn't want to see the disappointment, didn't want to think about how Mick had gotten together with a confident bassist, not a terrified man who was masquerading as somebody else, somebody better.

It was like everything was starting to fall apart. Nikki cried, his heart pounding and a lump in his throat, and Mick had his arm around Nikki, and he didn't say anything. He never did. Nikki sobbed, wiping away at his eyes but the tears remained, burning in his eyes and leaving a trail of fire down his cheeks. 

"Just cry, Nik." Mick whispered against Nikki's hair. He kissed his cheek. "Scream, let it all out. It's okay." Mick always sounded so genuine, so sincere, not saying another word as he tucked Nikki's head beneath his chin and against his chest. 

Nikki thought about how his father had told him to never call again and how his mother had told him that he would never be anything as he muffled his screams against Mick's chest. He thought about how he'd broken all of his records and cut himself in the process and he'd liked it. He thought about his step-fathers breaking his hand and breaking his innocence, and thought about Mick, and the screams dissolved into cries once more. 

"They don't matter anymore." Mick whispered. "None of them matter, not anymore. Fuck them, Nik." He lightly squeezed Nikki's shoulders. "They can't hurt you anymore." Mick said in that determined, loving tone of his that he rarely got. 

"You won't." Nikki said, burying his face against Mick's neck. "You won't hurt me." 

"I won't. You know that I won't." Mick whispered. "You've got a new family now, Nik, they don't deserve your thoughts anymore." 


End file.
